Rising from the Ashes
by LetTheArrowFly
Summary: Some say Katniss has already faced her greatest fears, but rebuilding her life in 12 turns out to be just as hard. Post-Mockingjay, Pre-Epilogue. Plenty of Everlark fluff.
1. Crying day

**Hey everyone, welcome to my new story. If you're looking for an intriguing, unique story with plenty of Everlark fluff, please R&R and don't forget to favourite! This is my take on Katniss's struggle to rebuild her life and how she and Peeta grow back together. This first chapter is pretty short - it's just an intro guys.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. I wish I did!**

I honestly can't deny it, no matter how hard I try.  
I miss him. The boy with the bread.

It's been a few months since I returned to 12. Sae's been helping me out here and there, but she's beginning to fade out of the picture a little, riddled with arthiritis. I know I should be the one helping her - but I feel as if I truly understand my mother now, so weakened with depression she was unable to do anything. I can relate to that now. It feels as if a huge weight is on your chest, suffocating you. I just don't see the point in it.

Most days are spent lying awake on the floor, not really thinking about anything, just... surviving. Occasionally sobs overcome me and I'm left screaming alone. Sleep is impossible for fear of nightmares. I'm occasionally dragged out of bed to use the bathroom, and what I see in the mirror scares me. Where I once saw the Mockingjay I now see a small, skeletal bag of bones with ragged patchwork skin and thin, uneven hair. I don't eat any more. I've decided that this is how I would like to die - slowly and as nothing of importance to anyone. Well, except him.

_Him_.

As I lie on the floor of my mother's old room - I've taken to sleeping here, too - I let my mind wander. He came back to 12 a little while after I did, and, like me, struggled to rebuild his life. Since I don't go and see him, I think he's distancing himself from me. Somewhere in my twisted mind I can accept that he's never going to come back, not properly. The cute girl with the pigtails and the red dress is long gone. Forever, probably. I can't say I like it this way. But I need more time to... to what? To adjust? To think? To die? I'm gone. He - Peeta - is gone. However, Haymitch is still as drunk as ever, but still here. Haymitch lives next door to me but I never see any lights on whether it's day or night (not that I care what time it is anymore). Perhaps he's dead, faded out of my life like everyone that was once in it. I make a mental list in my mind. Gale. Prim. Mother. Father. Rue. Finnick. Madge. Peeta. And now Haymitch. I think about going to visit him but think better of it. I feel tears beginning to crawl out of my eyes, pooling up around my face. A scream builds up inside me. Great, so today's a crying day.


	2. What am I going to do with you?

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**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games... I wish I did!**

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. I'm so lonely.

There's only one person who could possibly make my life worth living right now is Prim, or Gale, or Peeta. But they're all gone. Prim's dead. Gale is engaged in 2. The only person within reach is Peeta. I shake that thought from my head. When the time comes I'll try and talk to him. Not now.  
I take a long, hot shower, the first I've had in weeks. Even though it's been months since... since then, my skin is still an angry, chewed-up mess. I can almost feel the fireball licking across my back as the boiling water scalds my skin. Most of my face has healed over to some degree, as have my hands, thighs and the front of my neck. The front of my torso was spared. However, the rest of my body ranges from pale pink to something unlike anything I've ever seen on a human. Ragged. Red. Disgusting.  
I dig my fingers hard into my scalp, rinsing out all the dirt and grease. I notice that about three inches of hair has grown on the bald patches that were burned. Huh. I never thought it would grow again. My body hair is slowly coming back, too. I am painfully thin but that doesn't bother me anymore.

When I'm done I wrap myself in a towel and consider going back to bed on my mother's floor, only to accept that if I were to lay down I would never get up again. I sigh, and eventually dress in something the old Katniss would wear - my father's hunting jacket, black trousers and a simple grey shirt. That I braid back my hair and hack off a good five inches with kitchen scissors. Since my hair is so long, it really doesn't make a difference. I haven't decided I'm going out hunting again, but something forces me to pull on my boots and start heading to the gate.  
An overwhelming rush of hunger hits me as soon as I open the door. My mouth waters for fresh game and I break into a sprint - only to find that I can't go for more than a few minutes before I'm out of breath. It doesn't take me long to figure out that I'm out of practice. Very. After what seems to be about three hours, my aim with the bow is almost back to normal and I'm enjoying a turkey leg that I'm roasting over a small fire. I didn't realize it was Autumn again. How long has it been since I tasted something this good?

"Katniss." A voice behind me sighs. "Good to see you're out again."  
I whip around, expecting to see Peeta, but instead it's Sae, good old Sae, hobbling along on crutches.  
"Sae." I say, my mouth relaxing into the first smile I've smiled in ages.  
She sucks her teeth. "So while I've been ill, you've been starving yourself? You promised you'd keep eating, girl. How long has it been?"  
Before I can come up with an excuse, as any sane person would, I blurt: "Weeks. How did you know?"  
"You're a skeleton. It's nice to see you out and about but I'm going to talk to Peeta. I'm obviously on my last legs so he's going to have too look after you for a while. And you look after him, too, he's just as broken as you are."  
My stomach contracts. Just like in the Quell, I don't care about my own safety but wish for Peeta's. It's true, we're the only people we have left for each other. Sae notices my expression.  
"I'm sure a bit of company would help you both."  
I have a hundred reasons why Peeta deserves better than me, how he should go away, make the best of his life, and I should be left alone to drown in my sorrows. But instead I force my face into what I hope is a smile and nod.  
"Yes, I'm sure it would. I'd, uh, better go now. Want to come back with me?"  
I regret asking her to join me as soon as she agrees. On the walk home, which takes about forty-five minutes with Sae on her crutches, she practically interrogates me about my life. I fill her with lies in what I hope is a winning fashion until she seems satisfied. When we reach my house, she takes both of my hands in hers and shakes her head at me. "What am I going to do with you?" I smile and shrug. "I'll be fine, Sae. Don't worry about me."

Two hours later I'm resumed back to my regular position on the floor, staring into nothingness and thinking about nothing in particular, when I hear the door unlock. "I brought cheese buns."


	3. Dear Katniss

**Please rate and review! :) Thanks for the reviews so far, they really made my day.  
Sorry for the super-short chapters! There'll be some long ones coming your way soon.  
**

I stumble downstairs in a flash, forgetting that I look a sight, cry out "Peeta!" and then burst into tears. So much for staying strong. Peeta walks over warily, and I notice that he really doesn't look too good either. Some of his burn scars are slowly fading, like mine, and most of his eyebrows have grown back. He's thin and pale with blue circles like bruises under his blue eyes. From the sound of his feet, his limp has returned. "Katniss?" His voice somehow brings me back to my senses. I know that the boy with the bread can't possibly come back to me, but the memories surface and my eyes stop leaking all over the place. "I...I've missed you." I blurt. Peeta's face softens. "Would you like some bread?" I laugh shakily, remembering this conversation. "No, I already ate at the Hob. But thank you." "You're welcome." We sit in silence for a few minutes, which should be awkward as hell but we're both so lost in our own thoughts that it really doesn't matter. It's Peeta that breaks the silence. "We had that conversation before, after the games. Real or not real?"

"Real." I tell him. "That was when...when..."

Peeta nods, understanding.

I clear my throat, trying to rid myself of the lump that's settled there. "It's been a while. How are you doing?

He looks at me with slight incredulity. I realize it's a stupid question. How do I think he's doing, when he's been tortured and hijacked and left to help himself alone? Why didn't I go and help him? I finally understand why he's distancing himself. Because he doesn't know what's real anymore, and he needs my help to find out. Maybe, just maybe, we can help each other.

"I've been better. I spend a lot of time painting... it's like therapy, I guess. Dr. Aurelius calls a lot. He says you should pick up more often, by the way, he was getting worried."

"I unplugged my phone. I don't want anyone from the Capitol in touch with me." I snap. Why am I acting so coldly? I'm doing everything wrong. Just like after he was taken from the Capitol...

Peeta looks at me sadly. "I'll make a deal with you, Katniss. I'll help you sort out your life if you help me sort out mine."

"Peeta, this isn't living!"

"Exactly. But we can make it better, that's my point."

"Good luck with that." I say icily, then storm upstairs to my room for another six hours of crying.

But I don't cry.

Instead, I sit on the edge of my unused bed and mull things over in my head. Why shouldn't I let people into my life? Peeta, specifically? I want to, I should, and I am going to, but something is stopping me. I don't know what it is. I run my fingers through my freshly washed hair and try to concentrate on anything. But I can't do it. I can't concentrate. I'm floating in this little dreamworld of my own, where only I live, and it makes me feel selfish.

"You are selfish, Katniss." I mutter to myself. And I know it's true. Because Peeta needs me as much as I need him. Deep down, I know that Peeta will be devastated if I don't come back to him. And vice versa. A certain conversation comes back to me:

_"Because that's what you and I do. Protect each other."_

And we will continue to protect each other, just as I have for the past two years. Because I do miss him.  
I've somehow stumbled over to his door when I hesitate to knock. My vision doubles.

_My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. I have to help Peeta so he will help me. We can help each other. My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old..._

Before I can control myself, I reach for the doorknob and push, to find that he leaves his house unlocked just as I do. I peer around the door warily. As far as I can tell, it's empty, so Peeta is either out or asleep upstairs, so I can nose around. As I look around, what I see saddens me for reasons I can't explain. The house is bare and the cream walls are splattered with different colours. And Peeta isn't lying when he says he paints a lot. Canvases are scattered all over the floor, stacked, piled up, you name it. And I'm everywhere. Almost all of the pictures feature me in one way or another. And I'm dumbfounded by how amazingly well he has captured every tiny detail of my face. The burn scars, the freckles, everything.  
There are pictures from both games, the war and after. Up in the tree above him and the Careers, me in my Mockingjay suit, and one that is me in the mouth of the cave, looking somehow unearthly, surrounded by white mist. Perhaps this is how I looked to him when his fever was high. However, one captures my attention especially. It's me, strapped up in some kind of ghastly orange hospital gown, with my hands tied behind my back. This doesn't scare me.  
The tears of blood running down my face scare me.

In a flash, my jacket is back on and I'm running into the hall with real tears dribbling all over me. Only my feet aren't steady enough and they get caught in some kind of black box, and I lie face down on the hard tiles, winded. After I drag myself up, cursing, I find that I've knocked out all of these papers from the box. There are hundreds of them, probably, and now they're strewn all over Peeta's kitchen floor. _Shit_, I think. _Nice goin__g Katniss._  
Being nosy as I am, I begin to stack them up and catch my name. Hesitantly, I open the particular piece of paper that caught my eye. And they aren't papers.

They're letters. Unsent letters.

_Dear Katniss,  
Dr Aurelius says I can go home tomorrow. District 12. I don't remember much of it.  
Maybe we can help each other out? Hopefully I'll see you soon.  
Peeta_

My eyes are wide. So maybe Peeta does care about me, more than I guessed. I'm telling myself to stop, but curiosity gets the better of me and my fingers fumble to open another. The date on this one tells me it's from a long time ago. Years.

_Dear Katniss,  
I saw you in my garden yesterday. I'm sorry my mother shouted at you. She's a witch.  
I hope the bread I gave you was helpful. This morning I saw you next to the meadow. I was looking at you and you picked a dandelion. Why?Maybe one day I'll talk to you.  
Peeta_

And another.

_Dear Katniss,  
I can't believe this is happening. The Hunger Games, I mean. I'm so sorry. But I'll never kill you.  
I swear I'll keep you alive.  
Peeta_

And another. From a week ago.

_Dear Katniss,  
It's been months since we came back to 12. But I know I should keep my distance.  
Peeta_

I read them over and over, to find that he's been writing almost every week since we were ten. Hundreds and hundreds. It's a major intrusion to Peeta's privacy, but I can't stop myself. A word I haven't used for years, springs to mind. Sweet. But sweet as they are, they have the power to make me weep in a way I've never cried before. I lose sense of all time, just reading and reading, splattering everything with tears, making a huge mess. I'm so lost in my own world that I don't notice Peeta's loud footsteps walking into the room.  
"Katniss." He says softly. I whip around. "You read my letters."


	4. Old Memories

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When I look up and Peeta sees my tear-stained face, the expression on his face is something I can't place. Is it sadness? Disappointment? Anguish? Embarrassment? Whatever it is, it isn't happy. Suddenly I feel so guilty and awkward. How would I feel if Peeta invaded my privacy like this?

"Peeta… I didn't… I had no idea…"  
"It's OK, Katniss." Peeta says simply.

I swallow hard. The look on his face is so lonely and sad that I can't stop myself from going into his arms. I breathe in his warm smell of sweat and cinnamon. We stand in silence, our arms wrapped around each other. This makes me realize how much I've missed human contact, and how much I need it, and how maybe Peeta and I can help each other.  
"So it's a deal? About sorting each other's lives out?" He asks when we eventually break apart.  
"It's a deal." We shake on it.  
I clear my throat awkwardly. "So, those letters."  
I swear Peeta's blushing. He chuckles, something I haven't heard him do for a long time. "It kept me sane in the Capitol." I give him a look. "Well, sane-_ish_."  
"And before that?"  
"I guess I loved you a lot."  
I smile at him crookedly, the first real smile for a long time. "Let's clear these up."

A little while later I'm prowling around Peeta's house. The only room upstairs he uses is his bedroom. The upstairs bathroom and all four of the other bedrooms lie untouched, like Prim's room in my house. It's funny how little he changed the house from its original state. He must have left a lot of his own furniture from his last house, because all I can see is the stuff that came with the house. Plain and simple.  
In the kitchen, it doesn't take me long to figure out that Peeta hasn't been eating much, either. There are also mounds of letters from Dr Aurelius.

"That's funny." I tell him. "Dr Aurelius only contacts me by phone. Well, he tries, anyway."  
Peeta shrugs. "So, are you done with your nosing around now?"  
I smirk. "Yeah, I'm good." I sniff the air, the ghost of a smile crossing my face. Like the old Katniss. "You said you had cheese buns?"

Going over to Peeta's becomes a regular part of my day. Since I'm sleeping again, nightmares return. Each night is different, but most are filled with Peeta and the dead. I plug my phone back into the wall, and begin talking to Dr Aurelius a little more. It's a drag, but I have made a lot of promises to Peeta that I am determined to keep, mainly about keeping my life together. I must eat three meals every day. I must answer Dr Aurelius. I must go outside for at least an hour every day. I would much rather end it all, but my plan is to stay together until Peeta is stable enough to leave. I don't know what he wants to do with his life, but he deserves a hell of a lot better than me. The cool relationship we had after he first came back is very slowly warming up. But anyway, after he's gone, I can resume my dreamlike world of non-existence.  
I can't say I'm happy. But I'm definitely faring better than before. After a few weeks of daily cheese buns, a little hunting and help from Peeta, I am slowly gaining weight. My skin and hair seems healthier, and there is a slight difference in my mental health. However, whenever I feel the slightest twinge of happiness I feel so guilty about it, because of who I am. How many lives were lost because of me.

I am Katniss Everdeen.

I am not supposed to be happy.

In 12, Winter is slowly returning. More people have returned and I try to greet people that I once knew, trying to seem as calm and collected as possible. More often than not I just ignore them. It's too much effort to dig up old memories like that.  
The walk across the Victor's village takes about a minute, but this morning I sense that something's wrong. For one, I can hear very faint voices coming from Haymitch's house. _That's new_, I think. But something is bothering me. Years of hunting in the woods have given me a kind of animal instinct. And today it's nothing good. I force my legs a little faster, my heart pounding - what has happened?

I'm about to have a full-scale panic attack when I reach Peeta's door and push. I could swear that everyone else in Panem can hear my heartbeat right now. There is silence, not a sound to be heard. But silence doesn't last forever.

Because I hear screams and shattering glass from upstairs.

_"Peeta!_" I yell. This can't be happening. No. No.

_I am Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen - no, eighteen years old. Peeta is in trouble. I am Katniss Everdeen. I am eighteen years old..._

I'm charging up the stairs three at a time. As I was told after the bombing in 13, seconds count. I can hear Peeta's screams now, strangled and filled with terror. Then I'm in the doorway, staring at the mess that was once his brother Rye's room. My eyes travel along the floor and meet Peeta's eyes. Black and dilated so much that the blue eyes I once saw in the school hallways area all but gone. His taut muscles are rigid and shaking. In his hands is a glass bottle. Blood is streaming down his fingers. He's mumbling something under his breath. I catch the words _mutt_ and _Katniss_ and _killed_.  
"Peeta." My voice is shaking. I don't know whether to go and comfort him or keep my distance. Tentatively, I take a step forward. "Peeta, it's OK. It's not real, it's not real, it's not real."  
I keep repeating this over and over again, and slowly, he begins to relax. He sinks down into a chair, breathing heavily. "It's not real?"  
"It's not real." I nod. "It's OK. You're OK. I'm here."

Because it seems safe now, I hesitantly take a few steps closer to him, then sit on the edge of the chair opposite him. "What was that?"  
"Flashback." He replies through gritted teeth. "They've happened a few times since... the Capitol. It's an after-effect of the tracker jacker venom."  
I try to mask the expression of complete horror on my face. "Peeta, I'm so sorry." I mean it.  
As Peeta tries to stand up again, I notice his hand. He's trying to conceal the jagged cut that runs across his palm, but I know instantly that he'll need stitches. _Oh crap_, I think. _If only my mother were here_. "Listen, Peeta, that's a pretty deep cut you've given yourself there. Hang on a minute, I think I've got something for that in my house." _I don't_.  
Panicking, I run back to my house and skim through the plant book in search of something for Peeta's hand. I'm no healer, but I know that we have some aloe gel somewhere in the bathroom cupboard. Once I've collected this, I grab some sterile thread, a needle and some bandages. It's not much but it'll have to do.

"Peeta, hey." I say when I get back to his house. He looks up at me with a smile, and I try to suppress the flutter that rises in my chest. That smile that I used to see at school, during the games, after... it reminds me that there is still a little piece of the old Peeta somewhere inside his head.  
I take him downstairs, where there's slightly better light, and sit him down on the sofa. It's funny, blood doesn't bother me as much as it used to. I guess it's both games and then the war. After cleaning away the blood I try to stitch it up as best as I can. They are jagged and uneven but at least it's stopping the blood flow.  
"Katniss, I... thank you."  
I look up, about halfway done with the stitches, and shake my head. "No. I owe you too much anyway. This is nothing."  
"Don't."  
_What does he mean?_ "Don't what?"  
"You don't owe me anything. You saved my life countless times. That's not nothing."  
"But the bread... it... I..."  
Peeta smiles. "I wish I remembered it better."  
"You don't remember it?" I try not to let my voice crack. If he doesn't remember this, what else did he forget?  
"I just have flashes of it. Like the rain. My mother hitting me. Seeing you over by the tree. It's the same with both games. Some parts of them are just all blurry and mixed up."

Suddenly I have an idea. "You know how we did the plant book? Maybe we could do something like that for the people we've lost, who we don't want to forget. The tributes, too."  
The mental list I made a while ago comes back to me. _Gale. Prim. Finnick. Cinna. Portia. Boggs. Rue._ The thought of writing about them in the book makes my head spin, but Peeta's done so much for me already that I have to do something to help him remember.  
"That sounds great. We can ask Effie for some paper." He says. "We can ask Haymitch if he wants to add anything, too." He breathes in sharply as I distractedly pull the thread too tight. I shake my head and give Peeta an apologetic grimace. I loosen it up and finish off the stitching with another coat of aloe gel. "I haven't seen him in months. But yeah, maybe we visit him tomorrow?"  
We exchange a smile. "I'll - I'll see you tomorrow, then?" He asks. There's a note of hesitance in his voice.  
"See you tomorrow."

It doesn't occur to me until a little while later that I probably should have asked him to stay with me. I don't know if he still has nightmares, but I know I do. Perhaps... perhaps it would help us both. Perhaps this is why he hesitated. Shaking my head to clear the thoughts, I fall on to the sofa and prepare myself for another eight hours of torturous nightmares.

**Not a very exciting chapter... but oh well. New one up soon.**


	5. Nightmares and drunken secrets

**Chapter 5! Yay! Thanks for the great reviews so far :) Next reviewers get a shoutout!  
Disclaimer: Yeah, because I really own the hunger games -_-**

That night I have the worst nightmares in months.

_I'm running through the woods as fast as I can, but there's an eerie quality about them. Red lights flash from the sky and trees stand a thousand meters tall. I'm in the orange hospital gown Peeta painted me in, but it's torn and bloody, little tendrils of fabric ripping off here and there. I look around to see what I'm running from. Behind me is the mutt version of Prim, like in the games. A massive wild dog with razor sharp teeth, flowing blond fur and eyes just like Prim. But they're cold and full of hatred.  
Behind her, there are more - Gale, an even bigger creature with a dark coat and hungry grey eyes, Madge, with yellow fur, Cinna, with glowing golden eyes, Rue, Finnick, Mother, Father... before long they've trapped me next to the old rock that Gale and I used to sit on. I think I'm alone, but then I see Peeta, roped to a tree, whilst mutts rip his flesh away..._

I wake screaming once again. After I come back into reality, I vaguely realize that I had a similar nightmare after my bridal phtoto shoot. So many old memories are coming back to me now, but I don't exactly welcome them with open arms. Sometimes I think it would be better to start my life over. Begin again.

I don't know what brings me to Haymitch's. Perhaps it's the hazy light in the downstairs window, which I haven't seen for weeks, or the fact that he's broken and damaged just as I am, or simply because I miss him. I know, right, what in the world brings me to miss _Haymitch_. I don't quite know myself, but it's enough to drag me out of bed and into the house next door.  
I call his name as I enter the doors. He's slumped on the table, a mass of bottles scattered all over the living room. Shards of glass stick out of the carpet like knives. "_Haymitch."_

He raises his head slightly and his face falls. "Oh. It's you."  
"Yeah, it's me." I clear my throat. "It's been a while."  
He motions for me to sit down. I stay standing.  
"So how are the star-crossed lovers of District 12?" Haymitch mumbles groggily.  
Rolling my eyes, I sigh. "Just friends." Because that's all we are. For the time being, anyway, before I get myself killed off and Peeta gets out of this ashen dump of a district.  
"Did you know they're thinking of renaming the country the Uninted Districts of Panem? See, the rebellion did do something good."  
I glare at him. "Have you seen Peeta at all lately?"  
Something flashes across his drunken, dilated eyes. I can only place it as pain. "He's changed."  
"Tell me about it."

We sit in silence for a minute, as if mourning the old Peeta. Something snaps inside me and I suddenly realize how much I wish he was back.  
"But he still loves you, you know."  
This takes me aback. "How? You don't get outside anymore, anyway."  
"Nothing could break that bond you two have, I reckon."  
"_Had_." I correct him. "Anyway, as you said before the Quell, I don't deserve him. Therefore, I plan to get myself killed off."  
He snorts. "Give it a few weeks. You'll fall hopelessly in love, I bet you."  
_Yeah. Sure_.  
"Oh, and about this memory book bullshit of yours. I can think of forty-six people."_  
The years he mentored,_ I think. Oh Haymitch.  
"Thanks." I say, my voice cracking. "I'd better get some sleep."

He holds up his hand as a way of saying goodbye, then slumps his head back on the table with a bang. I make my way back to my house and fall asleep in no time. But the nightmares don't lessen.

I wish there was someone to stay with me.


	6. Feelings

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**Disclaimer: If I owned the Hunger Games, I wouldn't be living in Scotland. So... no, I don't.**

* * *

The next day Peeta and I get to work on the memory book.

I'm shaky the first days sessions working on it, keeping my emotions to myself and speaking in a monotone. About Rue's knowledge of plants. Prim's healing abilities. What Cinna could do with a length of silk. But slowly, I relax. We stay silent most of the time, only talking to dispute a detail on a sketch, to remember someone's qualities. After a couple of weeks, Haymitch joins us. He tells us about the forty-six tributes that died under his mentoring, plus his family and friends that were taken by Snow. It's at this point that I see him in a completely new light. I guess it's true that the most damaged people are the wisest. One session, while I watch Peeta is silently sketch one of his brothers, he clears his throat and speaks up.

"Malorie Hemlock." He says quietly. I look at him curiously. "My girl. Before... Before Snow."

It's all the explanation we need. His voice is unusually cracked, as if he's recovering from flu. But now I understand why Haymitch turned to drink. There was simply no one left for him anymore.

He reaches inside his jacket for a photograph. I had no idea he was this sentimental, to be honest. But he draws out a small, yellowing photograph that is obviously decades old. A girl. A teenage seam girl. Dark wavy hair, olive skin and grey eyes like mine, but the resemblance stops there. She's tall, and bigger than me in a voluminous, curvy kind of way. The expression on her face is not unlike the one I saw on Haymitch during his tribute interview. Smirking fondly at the camera.

"She's beautiful." I reply.

I can see that he'd prefer to keep the photo with him, so Peeta draws a copy of the photograph on to the paper. Haymitch scrawls a paragraph that I can't really decipher, apart from words like love and pregnant and murdered. When he's done, he slams the pen down, splattering ink all over the page, and bolts out the door. I exchange a look with Peeta.

"I've never seen him like that before." He says to me.

"Neither," I agree. "I guess he loved her a lot."

"Loves," Peeta corrects. "just because someone's gone it doesn't mean you can't love them."

I nod, trying to focus on my writing. But my mind is going _Prim Prim Prim Prim Prim..._ replaying her awful death scene over and feeling the heat of the flames licking all over her body as she turned into a true fire mutt. My young, sweet, innocent little Prim. Gone. Gale's bomb. She wouldn't have wanted this, I tell myself. But I can't stop the tears spilling over. _She's dead, stupid. Dead._ Sobs rack my body, until I begin to make that awful choking sound. Peeta's arms hesitate slightly before they circle me, and I cry into his shirt.

When I eventually look up, I see those blue orbs looking right into mine. Somehow, it calms me. "Prim?" He asks. I just nod and tighten my grip on him. As if he's going to shatter into a million pieces, and I must keep him together. Since he's all I have left, I must keep the Boy with the Bread. But then I remember my plan. _Don't get attached to him_, I remind myself. But something inside me is wavering.

When I'm done crying Peeta chuckles slightly, and I don't understand until I see the mess I've made on his shirt. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." He says.

"Peeta, I - What was it like?" I blurt. "In the Capitol, I mean?"

He hesitates, and shakes his head. "Indescribable. I don't even know if I was conscious for most of it, to be honest. But... I don't know, I just spent all of my time trying to sort out the real from the not real. Like the game."

"Like the game." I repeat.

* * *

It's not until three days after that I notice Haymitch's geese. I'm walking across his lawn to my place and there they are, waddling all over the lawn. I shriek and jump about a foot in the air. Haymitch is _not_ the guy to be breeding geese.

"_Haymitch!_" I yell to the hunched figure bent over the water barrel. I notice how thin he's getting. "What the _hell_ convinced you to start breeding geese when you can barely look after yourself?"

He straightens up, his face contorting into a grin. "First time I've seen you afraid of animals."

I glare at him. "I'm _not_ afraid of them. You're going to kill them off, for God's sake."

"Who cares?" He chuckles. "Traded them for some useless piece of wood that I don't need."

"You're crazy."

"All the liquor's gone. It's something to do until the next train comes in - and besides, they remind me of you two." He starts laughing, and now I'm really wondering just how sane he really is.

When I get home I strip off for bed, and like it always does, my reflection in the mirror stops me. But strangely, this time, it isn't negative. In the month or so that I've started talking to Peeta, I've eaten better, gotten out more and slept... well, maybe not slept better, but the effect is pretty drastic. My acid-damaged hair grown back longer and thicker, my eyes brighter, my chewed-up, sallow skin still burned but healthier, and I've gained some weight back. This should make me happy, but it only takes me aback. I swore I would just stick around until Peeta leaves, but who knows how long that'll take? Besides, it doesn't seem like he's leaving any time soon. Is it possible that he wants a future with me?

I haven't thought once about my confused feelings for him. We've been through so much together, it would be hard to feel nothing for him. But I can't keep myself from wondering... what's holding me back? What's the reason that there isn't something more between us?

_No,_ I tell myself, _I can't start thinking like that. _Even I can see that Haymitch was right that day before the Quell - I could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve him. He deserves someone so much better than me.

I get into bed and fall into a troubled sleep filled with nightmares.

* * *

**A/N - Hope that was OK :) Sorry the chapters aren't too long, but I feel like I needed to end this one here. Next chapter will be more fluffy, I promise!**


	7. Square One

**Hey guys :) I can't thank enough anyone who has followed, favourited or reviewed my story. I apologise for not writing enough/keeping my chapters super short =/ I'll try and make them longer, it's just when I'm super busy I feel like short chapters are better than nothing!  
Shoutout to WiseGirl1993, whose lovely reviews made my day!  
Disclaimer: ****Yeah. I'm Suzanne Collins and I own the Hunger Games. -_-**** Not.  
**

* * *

It's late when I awake from a fitful sleep. Sunlight pours through the windows onto my face, and I can hear the faint mockingjay song coming from the woods. It's the most peaceful I've felt in months. And I love it. After I dress in my father's hunting jacket and braid back my hair, I begin to make my way over to Peeta's. Something's different about today. Something happy. As I cross Haymitch's lawn, as always, something stops me in my tracks. This time it's the man himself, stumbling drunkenly across his lawn, surrounded by geese. Basically, as long as he's drunk enough to have no idea what he's doing, I guess he's happy, too.

"Drunk again, right?" I mean to sound threatening, but that feeling provokes a chuckle instead of a glare. In answer, Haymitch collapses on the ground. _Guess he won't be joining us today_.

Peeta's in a good mood, too. The glorious smell of baking bread is wafting from his house, and he's able to be his old self. Laughing. Making jokes in a way that's so typically _Peeta. _For the first time in what feels like years, I'm able to truly appreciate that he might be coming back to me. It only lifts me even higher. What's wrong with me? Katniss Everdeen, the mad girl who survived two hunger games, was the face of the rebellion and shot the president, happy? But for once, these thoughts don't stop me.

"What's up with you?" He asks. "You're not scowling."

I return his grin without thinking, and his face softens in a way that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. _Just like the old Peeta_. The boy who could make me smile with a single glance.

"Katniss, I - I've been meaning to ask you - what happened at the end of the Quell?" He asks me quietly. "That's one of the memories the Capitol altered the most. I've never really been able to figure it out."

This takes me aback, and I blurt, "You killed Brutus. I was paralysed by the electric shock. And that's when the Capitol..." I trail off.

Peeta shakes his head. "No, I mean before that. After Johanna and Beetee and Wiress joined us all I can remember is a lot of shiny memories. Nothing real."

I look up into his blue eyes, and I know that I have to oblige.

"Well... After we figured out that the arena was a clock, we started planning a trap, and then Wiress... Wiress, she was killed, by one of the careers. Then we took out a few other tributes." I swallow hard, knowing what I have to explain next. "Then there were the jabberjays. Me and Finnick were stuck with the jabberjays. They kept mimicking noises of people we loved in pain. Like Prim. Her screams."

The memory came back and hit me full force. The agonizing screams of the ones we cared for so dearly. The other wedges, they were all about physical pain. The jabberjays - no. The mental pain those horrible birds brought on was blinding.

"And then?"

A small smile plays on my lips. "Then... then there was a kiss."

"Real or not real?"

I pause. "What?"

"The kiss. Was it real?"

"Peeta, I -" The kiss was definitely real. But I can't let him get attached to me. I can't put him through the pain of being with someone so cold and heartless. I can't do that to him all over again. I can't. A raw pain erupts inside me, and it's all I can do not to tell him that it was definitely real.

"It's fine. I understand." He says lightly, with a smile. A smile that's so _Peeta_.

"Okay?" I ask with a smile, not anticipating his reply in the slightest.

"Run." He yells. "_RUN!"_

But by the time I look down in horror to see his clenched, shaking fists, I know it's too late.

What happens next is completely unexpected, so quick and unreal. I cling on to every shred of reality I can grasp as I take in the scene before me. Peeta towers over my body on the ground, the azure in his eyes all but gone, shards of glass shattered in his open palms that are reaching for my neck. He lashes out at the lamp on the dresser, blood streaming down his arms. He looks insane, and terrified. His tortured mind has lashed out on me full in the chest. I should be terrified, but the only emotion I can place in these longest few seconds of my life is heartbreak. My mind screams for me to run, but all I can do is lie there, frozen, as I whisper repeatedly through my tears, "Peeta, It's not real."

_not real not real_ _ not real__ not real__ not real__ not real__ not real__ not real__ not real__ not real__ not real__ not real__ not real__ not real__ not real__ not real__ not real__ not real not..._

* * *

White.

All I see is white.

I assume I've been out for a few days. The pounding of blood in my forehead sends a rhythm throughout my tortured body. I float somewhere between life and death, just as I was after I returned to twelve. _Just... surviving._ Every cell in my body feels like lead. It's not just my bruised ribs, or my cracked skull, or the row of twelve smooth, even stitches that runs across my aching belly. The thought that Peeta is back to square one breaks my heart.

A stout old woman, not Sae, but someone who moved here from Four not long ago, a healer. She tells me shortly that her name is Ruby, lists my injuries, tells me that I'll be up and walking within a week and she does in no way expect me to talk to her. Then she leaves and I'm left to process all the information that she's just spouted.

Fractured skull... bruised abdomen... cut stomach... The words mean nothing to me. What does it matter, anyway? If I never make it out of this endless white corridor?

"Not doing too well, are you, sweetheart?"

_Haymitch_, I think. _Only he would still be grinning after something like this happened_.

"What happened?" I croak. Oh. He must have tried to strangle me then.

"Peeta had one of his episodes yesterday, that's what. Fortunately I had some knock-out drugs on me - don't ask if you know what's good for you, sweetheart - and gave him a shot. Then I yelled for Ruby."

"Where is he?" Haymitch doesn't reply. _"Where is he?"_ I demand scathingly.

"Look, Katniss, that's what we don't know."

"He's... gone?"

He's gone mentally, and now the physical Peeta has left me. Where to, I don't know. Maybe I will never know. But after today, he may never be the same. I ignore Haymitch, and lie back on the pristine white pillow. It's a feeling that I can't describe, knowing that he's somewhere out there by himself. I don't know if it was because of the venom, or an act of protection for me.

"Haymitch, we have to find him! What the hell were you thinking, taking care of me and then just leaving Peeta to run off?" I'm yelling now, and it feels like my throat is on fire.

"Nah, they've got a bunch of people out looking for him, it's alright."

"But they don't know him like I do! He could be anywhere, Haymitch! He could be _dead_! He was already hurt when..."

Something flashes across Haymitch's face. Pain. "Fine. I'll ask Ruby if you can get up early. But I doubt she'll let you, she's a tough old bird."

He saunters off, but all I can see is the replaying vision of Peeta lunging for my neck.

* * *

Several arguments with Ruby and a lot of slammed doors, foot-stamping and huffing later, I'm dressed in my old hunting gear, hobbling out of my house. Pain shoots through me with every movement, but I don't care. Whenever I feel my body giving up, I only have to imagine the pain Peeta might be in and I force myself forward. Along with me, there's Thom, Gale's old crewmate, Haymitch, and three other men who I don't know. They tell me they've looked all around town and in many of the empty houses around Twelve, including the Victor's village.

"How can you be so _stupid_?" I screech, pain tearing at my throat. They look at me cluelessly. "The woods!"

At this suggestion, the six of us hurtle under the fence and begin to scour the woods. I've no idea how far Peeta could have gotten, but if they can't find him in the town, then where else would he be?

The short distance it takes to get to me and Gale's old rock seems so much longer with five extra people tagging along. We still have no sight of Peeta, until Thom finds a broken glass bottle on the ground, with what appears to be human blood on it. It's a clue about Peeta's whereabouts, but how much blood can he have lost with a cut like that?

We trudge along in silence. Every last little bit of hope I can cling onto is slowly slipping away with time - how many hours has it been now? - and my stomach and head are causing me blinding pain. But I know I made the right decision. Because who else would have known where Peeta is?

I'm literally on the brink of giving up when I hear a shout from Heath, one of Thom's friends. I look around and realise he's pointing to the lake, and see someone's silhouette by the far side. My breath catches in my throat and my blood runs cold. Plenty of emotions rise up - elation, fear, dread, hope... but we keep moving, almost stealthily, by the edge of the forest until I see him properly. Hunched over, white as a sheet, staring down at his hands.

Haymitch nudges me forward. I take a deep, shaky breath and approach the boy that I care for so much, yet am so terrified of. He freezes at my touch and tries to get away, but I've got a firm grip on his arm. His fist is still curled around the deep gash, my stitches that he tore open with a glass bottle.

"Katniss!" He exclaims, his eyes wide. "You can't be near me! It's not safe!"

"Peeta, I don't care. Look, you've lost way too much blood. You need to get home."

"No!" He's shouting now, and I can feel the Boy with the Bread slipping away from me. "No, Katniss! Look what happens when I let anyone into my life. I almost killed you."

"Peeta, come _on_." I plead. "Don't do this. Don't go back to square one."

"Katniss, you-"

For once, I don't care who's watching, or whatever consequences it may have on my own life. I kiss him full on the mouth.  
At first, he doesn't respond, but I just keep my lips pressed to his and slide my aching hands around his neck. It's at this point that all my plans about Peeta leaving me crash to the ground. And he kisses me back.

"Don't you _dare_ leave me." I whisper.

When I eventually turn back to the rest of the group, blushing, they're all laughing and nudging each other. Haymitch just gives me a grin so wide I didn't even know he was capable of it, and asks, "Job done, I take it?"

"Job done." I agree.

After a while, when they're a little further ahead of Peeta and I, he speaks up. "Katniss, I just... I'm so sorry."

"Peeta, don't."

"Fine. But seriously, if I tell you to run, you have to run. I care about you too much to hurt you like that again."

My hand finds his. "You do?"

"I do."

I rise up on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. And just for a second, everything seems..._ perfect._

* * *

**I feel so bad saying this is the longest chapter yet when in reality it's only about 2,250 words =/ Hope you enjoyed, I was writing at a speed of about one word per hour with this chapter! Tricky one to write for me.**

**Don't forget to R&R :) The reviews really make my day, I always want to know what would make this better for you.**


	8. On Hold

Hey everyone!

I would like to thank everyone that's read my story so far. But, for now, I'm working one some other stuff so I'm officially putting this story on hold. As for later stories, I'm going to be publishing an AU that explains how things would be if Haymitch had gone into the Quarter Quell with Katniss. So if you're interested, follow me and I'll have the first chapter up soon.

I may continue this story later, who knows?

~ LetTheArrowFly


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